


Like Nobody's Watching

by sunamaryllis



Category: Batman (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Consensual Underage Sex, Damian is so smart and also so fucking dumb, Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Don't Like Don't Read, Fluff, Humor, I mean like... these kids are traumatized... how could there not be any angst, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Penis In Vagina Sex, Requited Unrequited Love, Slow Dancing, Smut, Trans Damian Wayne, Trans Male Character, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, don't be like these knuckleheads, remember kids always wear a condom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunamaryllis/pseuds/sunamaryllis
Summary: “I can’t give you all the stuff you missed out on,” Wallace explained slowly. “I can’t make shit better. But we can pretend for one night, can’t we?”orDamian teaches Wallace how to dance. Wallace, in turn, teaches Damian a few other things.
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Wally West, Damian Wayne/Wally West II, Dick Grayson/Wally West (mentioned), why everything gotta be confusing omg...
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72
Collections: DCU Rarepair Exchange 2020





	Like Nobody's Watching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheesesan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesesan/gifts).



> WOW writing this was fun! Thank you to the DCU Rarepair Exchange for hosting this awesome collection, and thank you to cheesesan for the great prompts - it was so rewarding to branch out from what I usually write. I really hope you like it!
> 
> I had originally set out to write a little 3-5k oneshot, blacked out, then woke up a week later having finished this behemoth, so an extra-special thank you to my beta (you know who you are ❤)
> 
> This takes place sometime before the Terminus Agenda arc, and also in an alternate universe where the Titans like each other a little more, and things are a little less bleak.
> 
> Please mind the tags before continuing!

The first time Damian heard loud music coming from Wallace’s room was actually more like the thirtieth. It was commonplace to hear thumping bass as he walked by, even through Mercy Hall’s ultra-reinforced walls; the only reason that Damian had taken interest this time was that Wallace had left his door open.

Damian had been on the way to talk to Djinn about important Titans business (which he was… formulating on the walk there) when he noticed movement from inside Wallace’s room. Damian wasn’t exactly sure what made him stop, but he found himself pausing anyway, peering past the doorframe.

Damian wasn’t quite sure _what_ Wallace was doing. He seemed to be bumbling about his room at random (though, Damian noted with some annoyance, he had no problem stepping over the piles of dirty laundry that littered his floor). His movements were jerky, uncoordinated, and frankly bizarre.

Damian tutted to himself, deciding to leave Wallace to… whatever he was doing. As he began to turn away, however, he caught a glimpse of Wallace’s face.

He was… smiling. A big, joyful grin, that lit up the whole room and made Damian freeze. He had never seen Wallace smile like that. Sure, he had seen him grin and laugh before – he certainly wasted enough time joking around with Roundhouse to facilitate that – but this felt different, somehow. More genuine.

It was in that moment that Damian finally realized that Wallace was dancing.

It was also in that moment that Wallace noticed Damian lurking in the doorway. His face fell, and he righted himself awkwardly.

Wallace said something, but the music was still deafening – Damian made an annoyed face, pointing to his ear. Luckily Wallace understood immediately, speeding over to his stereo and turning it down to a more manageable decibel.

“Uh… hey,” Wallace said uncertainly. “Did you need something?”

Oh. Why _had_ he been standing there?

Damian straightened, tamping down the heat that was rising to his cheeks for some reason. “Your music is disruptive. Some of are actually trying to work here – you need to turn it down.”

Wallace scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, okay, _mom._ Like you weren’t just going to go see Djinn.”

This time, Damian couldn’t contain his blush. “You presume incorrectly,” he snapped, realizing too late how defensive his tone was. Apparently Wallace realized it too, and he smiled again – this time, though, it was more of a victorious smirk, and it just made Damian blush harder.

Damian turned sharply on his heel, shoulders instinctively hunching a little. “Keep it down!” He called as he hurried out of the room, fast enough that he couldn’t hear whatever Wallace yelled after him.

* * *

Throughout the following week, Damian kept thinking about the… non-incident incident. During training, on missions, even in criminal interrogations – no matter the time, Damian found his mind wandering back to Wallace’s strange dance moves, his… smile.

What was most frustrating was that Damian couldn’t discern _why._ Wallace, quite frankly, was a terrible dancer. He was unusually sloppy for someone who was so coordinated in the field (or, at least, more coordinated than the likes of Crush or Roundhouse). His sense of rhythm was clearly atrocious, and whatever “moves” he employed were closer to spastic muscle twitches than actual technique.

And yet, Damian was obsessed. Time he usually spent strategizing or… thinking about Djinn… was instead consumed by replaying the seemingly mundane encounter in his mind. What was it? What made Damian feel like this?

It hits him during his morning tai chi. Clearly, the reason he’s so bothered is because Wallace’s incompetence in dance is indicative of a deeper problem with fitness. No one who was well-trained would act so uncoordinated, so… foolish.

Damian’s tendency to get flushed around Wallace, then, was due to _shame._ He had personally vouched for Kid Flash’s efficacy, even allowing Roundhouse on the team to meet Wallace’s terms. Learning that he had made a critical error in judgement was embarrassing, to say the least.

They had been doing group training for a while now, but clearly Wallace was in need of additional help.

When he brings the idea up to Emiko, she seems hesitant. She’s in the middle of cataloguing her weapons when he approaches her, and almost unconsciously organizes her arrows while she talks.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Damian,” she said slowly, deftly removing an arrowhead and running her fingers over the tip to check for damage. “Most of the team’s issues comes from, well, their teamwork. We should probably just focus on group training.”

Damian crossed his arms. “I don’t see the issue with doing both. I’ve had an encounter with Kid Flash that is making me doubt his abilities – this needs to be addressed ASAP, not gradually through group training.”

Emiko’s eyebrows raised. “Wait, sorry, you wanted to do one-on-one with _Kid Flash?”_

Damian tutted. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“Honestly, I just figured that you just wanted to get alone time with…” Emiko trailed off, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement. She had reassembled all her arrows and had now moved onto checking the straps of her quiver. “In that case, yeah, sure. You take the egomaniac and the viewtube star and I’m fine with it.”

Damian frowned – he hadn’t been thinking of training anyone else, really, though he couldn’t argue that it was a good idea. But the idea of prolonged one-on-one time with Roundhouse… “I think I would be a most effective teacher with Kid Flash and Djinn, since I’ve established a rapport with them.”

Emiko laughed – a startling, loud noise that cut off as abruptly as it started. “Nope. You wanted Kid Flash? You can get his buddy too.”

With that, she shouldered her quiver – clearly, in her mind, the conversation was over. Damian gritted his teeth in annoyance. Time for him to come up with another lesson plan.

* * *

As it turned out, training Roundhouse wasn’t nearly as bad as it initially seemed – Damian had decided that their first lesson would consist simply of an hour of cardio, which wore Roundhouse out to the point that Damian didn’t have to deal with his… quipping.

Planning for Wallace’s training, however, had been significantly harder. Damian had agonized over the best way to teach him dancing without actually teaching him how to dance. The last thing Damian wanted was Wallace asking _why,_ though he wasn’t sure why he was so reticent to talk to Wallace about the non-incident incident.

The two of them were standing on the roof of Mercy Hall, Damian having just arrived with a large object covered in a white cloth. Wallace eyed it suspiciously as Damian set it down, rolling his shoulders back to deal with the slight ache.

“That’s not like, a bomb or something, right?” Wallace asked.

Damian sighed. “Don’t be stupid. Why would I have you practice bomb disarming on the roof? It would make more sense to do it inside of Mercy Hall, so if you failed, the explosion would at least be partially contained by the structure.”

“Great,” Wallace said, rolling his eyes. “So if it’s not a bomb, what is it? A box of nunchucks?”

Damian grinned, pulling off the cloth with a flourish.

Wallace stared at the object for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “Wow, uh, okay. Points for catching me off guard, I guess.”

At Damian’s feet sat a large portable speaker. Wallace was trying to contain his laughter, but every time he looked at it, he dissolved into another fit of giggles. Damian felt heat rush through him at the sound – some ugly combination of annoyance, embarrassment, and something… else. Damian quashed the sensation, pursing his lips. Wallace needed to take training _seriously._

“Man, are we having a dance off? No, wait – _rap_ battle? Please tell me it’s a rap battle. Damian, I cannot express how much I need to hear you rap.”

“We aren’t going to be playing music with this speaker,” Damian snapped. “Despite constant reprimands from both myself and Red Arrow, you continue to rush into danger, heedless both of your own safety and the safety of civilians. Moreover, you’re still uncoordinated and sloppy, relying far too heavily on your powers in a conflict.”

Wallace stopped laughing. Even from a distance, Damian could see his jaw clench. “And what does the speaker have to do with that?”

“I’m going to be teaching you capoeira. It’s a martial art based heavily on rhythm, synchronization, and control. It’s traditionally accompanied by percussion, but I figured we should start at the very beginning.”

Damian withdrew a remote from one of his belt pouches, pressing the on button. A slow, steady beat began to play from the speaker. Wallace crossed his arms.

“Let me get this straight – you want to teach me a rhythm-based martial art, and we’re going to be listening to a _metronome_ to do it?”

“So you _can_ pay attention,” Damian tutted, moving out from behind the speaker. “Let’s start with the basic forms, shall we?”

* * *

Damian was allowing himself an unusually long shower of ten minutes. He wasn’t tired, per se – today’s training session with Wallace had once again been cut short. He was just… frustrated.

Training _had_ been going well. Roundhouse had made tremendous improvements in his cardio. His 5k time had decreased to about 50 minutes – still far from ideal, but Damian was now less worried about him getting winded in the middle of a mission.

Wallace had also improved greatly. He had shown a surprising aptitude for capoeira; Damian had been forced to move onto moderate forms faster than anticipated. Perhaps Wallace’s earlier incoordination had been a simple case of not applying himself.

Something was still bothering Damian, though. His thoughts remained stuck on Wallace; free moments were consumed by thinking back over their sessions, picturing Wallace’s forms, his movements, his… body.

This… fixation, as it were, made Damian recall tiny imperfections and stumbles in great detail. Perhaps he was simply determined to get the best out of his teammates? That may account for it.

(Why he was so fixated on Wallace’s performance when others still had much further to go was a thought he did not like to dwell on.)

To combat this, Damian had started getting harsher during training, criticizing every mistake that Wallace made. The more he pushed, however, the more Wallace pushed back. Their training sessions would often dissolve into shouting matches, usually ending with Wallace storming off and leaving Damian on the roof with his stupid stereo.

And Damian still couldn’t stop thinking about Wallace.

He turned off the water with a sigh, leaning his head against the tile wall. Wallace had plateaued; whatever self-motivation had gotten him through the basic forms had seemingly dissipated. Damian had tried focusing on different areas, like breathing patterns and balance, but for whatever reason this just seemed to aggravate Wallace more. Perhaps the only thing to do was return to the basics.

Damian dried himself off, pulling on his binder and a pair of shorts. He then carefully affixed his domino mask to his face, making sure that it was perfectly secure. Yes, returning to the basics was the way to go – he had been wrong to ever move on from them. If the foundation isn’t flawless, then the whole structure is unstable.

He pushed open the door to the showers, beginning to descend the stairs into the common area. He was about halfway down when he heard something that made him pause – his name.

“Robin’s driving me crazy, man.” It was Wallace. Damian stopped moving, pressing himself against the brick wall to be less conspicuous. He hardly needed to bother – Damian could clearly see that both Wallace and Roundhouse were completely engrossed in whatever inane video game they were playing.

“Dude’s a hardass,” Roundhouse agreed, squawking indignantly as Wallace’s character pushed his off the map.

Wallace sighed impatiently. “Yeah, but it’s more than that. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been in such a shitty mood lately, but it feels like he has absolutely no faith in me. I mess up one tiny little thing – like, my footing is off by an inch or whatever – and then he thinks I can’t handle it and we have to spend half an hour breathing.”

“Man, I wish my training was learning how to breathe,” Roundhouse whined, “I dunno how many more miles I got in me.”

Wallace laughed. “If you didn’t complain about cardio all the time, he probably wouldn’t make you do it.”

“True that.”

The two of them fell into silence as they waited for the next level to load. Damian began to quietly move down the stairs – he didn’t need to stick around.

“What really gets me, though, is that it doesn’t _have_ to suck ass.” Wallace continued suddenly. Much to his annoyance, Damian found himself stopping once more. “Like, the thing he’s training me in? Cap-whatever? It’s actually pretty badass. Real acrobatic shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Roundhouse grunted, clearly concentrating on the game.

“But I’ve been doing really good, and he still won’t let me actually fight! Like, damn, it’s not like I’m a total rookie – I’ve been doing this hero shit for a while now. I’m way past the point of proving myself.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And as much as he totally pretends it’s not dance-fighting, I _know_ it is. I’m not stupid. But we still practice to a fucking metronome! Like, if he’s so worried about perfection in the field or whatever, wouldn’t music actually be better? Since it’s more fluid, or distracting, or whatever?”

“Fuck!” Roundhouse yelped. “Man, how are you so good?”

Damian could practically feel Wallace’s eyeroll. “How many times do I need to explain super-speed to you?”

As the two began to playfully squabble, Damian finally made his leave. He could feel that his cheeks were flushed faintly with annoyance – what did Wallace know, anyway? He certainly hadn’t been trained in over 30 types of martial arts from birth. He hadn’t been leading a team for months now. Who was he to tell Damian how to do his job?

“Robin?”

Damian glanced up, startled – it wasn’t often that someone could catch him off-guard.

Djinn was standing – or, rather, floating – a few feet in front of Damian. Her hands were clasped and her brow furrowed; the perfect picture of concern.

“Djinn.” He responded coolly, tamping down the urge to fidget. His binder was full body – he never wore anything else – but he still felt uncomfortably exposed.

“Are you alright? You seem… preoccupied.”

“I’m fine.” He said brusquely. “Nothing to worry about.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Robin… I understand that you are a private person, that you have your secrets. I also have my secrets. But as you and Red Arrow have told us, time and time again, we are a team now.”

As she spoke, she slowly descended until her feet finally touched the ground. Damian knew he wasn’t exactly tall (yet!), so it was always somewhat disconcerting when he had to look down at someone – and even more so when that person stared back with huge, unnaturally violet eyes.

She reached out, and Damian almost startled when he felt her hands grasp his. Her skin was oddly cool to the touch, but there was a humming undercurrent of power, of life, just beneath the surface.

It… reminded Damian of something that Richard had once told him. About _his_ Wally West. How when they had touched, when they had… kissed, it was like brushing up against a livewire. Hot. Electric. Dangerous.

All Damian could think about was if Wallace felt the same way.

When he glanced back up at Djinn, she was smiling in a way that made Damian flush with embarrassment.

“Have faith in your teammates.” She said softly, finally letting go of Damian’s hands. Her power lingered for a moment on his skin before finally fading away.

* * *

The sun hadn’t quite set, but the March evening was still cold enough that Damian could see his breath. He shut his eyes, concentrating on the physical sensations of the New York air – the biting chill, the faint stench of smog, the crumbling roof beneath his feet.

“Hey,” called a tired voice from behind him. Damian didn’t bother moving to face it.

“You’re tardy, Kid Flash.”

“Yep,” Wallace replied, popping the ‘p’ noise. “Late for another exciting exercise of stretches and breathing.”

Damian finally turned around, taking in Wallace’s state. He didn’t just sound tired – he looked tired too. Exhausted, even. His posture was hunched, his face haggard in a way that made him look older than his sixteen years. Damian’s chest twinged – clearly, something was wrong, but Damian quashed the feeling. Now was not the time.

“You’ll be happy to know that I’ve decided to change up today’s lesson plan.” Damian tutted. “Assume cadeira position.”

Wallace sighed, but dutifully sank into a low squat, crossing his arms in front of him so that his face and torso were protected. Damian mirrored his movement, but kept one arm free – in it, he held the remote to the stereo.

“Remember your basic forms and breathing techniques. They will be your greatest asset in a fight.”

Wallace’s eyes widened. “Fight?”

Before he could say anything else, Damian hit play on the remote. Instantly the air was filled with the sound of percussion, and seconds later, vocals joined in the heavy bass. At this point, Wallace’s eyes had widened to an almost comical amount.

Damian didn’t let Wallace linger long on his surprise. Tossing the remote to the side, he advanced quickly towards Wallace, each movement synchronized with the beat of the song.

To his credit, Wallace reacted quickly, smoothly ducking the swinging high kick Damian had aimed at his head. Using the motion of the dodge, Wallace planted his hands on the roof and kicked at Damian’s torso, which Damian evaded by backflipping away. He didn’t miss Wallace’s muttered comment of “Show off!”

The two began to circle each other, each movement perfectly in sync. Wallace still wasn’t close to Damian’s level of acrobatics, but he more than made up for it in speed, deftly avoiding everything thrown at him. They moved like the tides, instinctively knowing when to pull together, when to push apart.

The two drew in close, trading blows – capoeira had little in the way of actual contact, but was still dangerous as a martial art. It was all about controlling your opponent’s movement, corralling them into a corner until you could make your final move.

Trying to corral Wallace was… more difficult than Damian would like to admit. His superhuman speed and stamina made taking advantage of weaknesses difficult. There were plenty of openings, but every time Damian tried to move in for the kill – so to speak – Wallace would shift and cover himself.

Damian was _exhilarated._ He had never felt like this in a fight. Certainly, he had experienced excitement, the thrill of victory, the incredible adrenaline of a close match. But in those circumstances, there was always an underlying threat of harm, or worse, of _failure._ Shame. Bringing dishonor to his families of renown. Even when sparring with Richard, there was still something to live up to, a need to prove himself.

But here? Damian didn’t feel the weight of his mantle. And by the way that Wallace was smiling – the big, free smile that Damian hadn’t realized he was missing until now – he must not be either.

The song began to fade out, much to Damian’s surprise – he had honestly thought that he would be able to beat Wallace within that timeframe. The two pushed apart, returning to the circling pattern as the next one started up. Damian realized with satisfaction that the tempo was slower; forcing Wallace to match that beat would give Damian an edge in the fight.

Wallace clearly knew it too – his posture became a little more tense, a little more defensive. But the smile remained.

They moved together once more, this time Wallace taking the initiative of attempting the first strike. He lunged forward with his fist – a bold choice, since arm strikes were not traditionally a part of capoeira. He was clearly making a ploy to take Damian down before he got to him. Unfortunately for Wallace, that desperation was precisely the kind of opportunity that Damian needed.

Damian dodged the strike by falling backwards, planting his hands firmly on the ground behind him and swinging his legs up. Before Wallace could withdraw his arm, Damian had hooked it with his foot, trapping Wallace’s hand between his legs. Damian allowed the momentum of the fall to carry him, flipping over.

It was a little inelegant, and Damian landed hard on his knees; Wallace, however, landed harder, hitting the roof with a pained grunt.

Before Damian could get to his feet – or even catch his breath – he heard a loud whoop from behind him. Startled, he glanced up at the source.

The _entire team_ was standing near the roof entrance, with Roundhouse currently barreling towards Wallace. Damian watched with a kind of detached shock as Roundhouse picked Wallace off the ground, holding him in a tight embrace while he shouted something, the only word of which Damian caught was “awesome”, repeated several times.

Damian stood quickly, heading over to where he had discarded the remote. He turned off the music, which made Roundhouse’s shouting much clearer – and much louder.

“Keep it down!” he snapped, trying to hide his embarrassment. How on earth had he missed the entire team arriving to watch their fight?

He glanced over at Emiko, who was regarding him coolly from behind her domino. Of course she could see right through him. That was the annoying thing about having another ex-assassin on the team.

“Why are you all up here? Don’t you have your own tasks to get to?” Damian said, crossing his arms. Instead of recognizing the clear dismissal for what it was, Roundhouse bounded over, grinning wildly.

“Are you kidding me, dude? We all heard the music! There was no way I was passing up the opportunity to see a dance fight!”

Damian gritted his teeth. “Capoeira is _not dance fighting!”_

Crush snorted derisively. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Are the rest of us gonna learn those crazy-ass moves, or is this just your special little thing with Kid Flash?”

Damian glanced over at Wallace, who was still dusting himself off. Wallace looked up, and when they made eye contact, he gave Damian a little smile.

Damian suddenly felt dizzy.

Oh _no._

* * *

Insomnia was not new to Damian.

He had been trained to function on very small amounts of sleep. His unique lifestyle required many long nights of tracking a lead or hunting criminal scum – exhaustion was simply not an option. As much as Damian appreciated that training, when he did try to get his “developmentally appropriate” eight hours, he sometimes found that he was too restless to properly settle down.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Damian squirmed under the covers, unable to make himself stay still. Both his mind and body were abuzz with nervous energy. He had tried multiple times to force sleep to come to him, but to no avail. Apparently, all the mindfulness techniques in the world were useless against the onslaught of, well… of _emotions_.

Damian, on some level, had always been… fond of Wallace. He had known him the longest out of all the Titans, and they had much in common – criminal families, repeated failures from mentors… Deathstroke.

But for every way they were alike, there were about five ways they were dissimilar. Despite everything he had been through, Wallace managed to have a strong moral compass, a sense of unfailing optimism that Damian could never manage. As much as Damian railed against the complacency of his father and the Justice League, there was some part of him that… admired Wallace for his outlook. Maybe even envied him.

This new development in his feelings towards Wallace wasn’t totally unusual, then. But it was unwelcome.

Damian gritted his teeth. These feelings – this _weakness_ – was dangerous. Letting someone in meant revealing your faults, your flaws. Things an enemy could use to easily bring you down.

If Damian was busy mooning over a teammate, he could miss things in the field. He was already embarrassed that he had failed to notice his team watching their fight – next time, the consequences of his sloppiness may not be so benign.

Besides, Damian was almost certain that Wallace was heterosexual – he only ever talked about girls in a romantic or sexual manner, and had shown no proclivities to prove otherwise. Pursuing this was a good way to get his heart stomped on.

Making up his mind, Damian threw the covers off himself and rolled out of bed. He retrieved his domino mask from the bedside table, carefully affixing it to his face. Clearly, breathing exercises weren’t going to be enough. Damian needed to confront his feelings in prolonged meditation, allowing himself to fully understand them – so that he could cut them down.

He padded silently out of his room, making a beeline towards the kitchen. He had made sure to stock matcha and proper tea preparation equipment for this exact purpose; nothing facilitated meditation like a perfect cup of tea beforehand.

He paused in surprise when he saw that the common room lights were on – was someone else awake at this hour? Curious, Damian crept out of the hallway and into their living space.

There, leaning against the kitchen island, was the last person Damian wanted to see right now.

Wallace was, unsurprisingly, out of uniform. None of that foolish business where he wore street clothes over his suit, either. Without the cowl, his face looked… softer. Younger. Especially in the low light. 

Damian allowed himself a moment of weakness to admire his form. Despite what one might think, Wallace didn’t have the prototypical slight build of a runner. His shoulders and chest were broad for his age, though he lacked muscle definition in his arms. His legs were long and slender – his hips attractively narrow.

Before Damian could sneak back to his bedroom, Wallace raised his head, spotting him instantly. Damian cursed his foolishness – he should have left when he had the chance.

“Hey Damian,” Wallace called.

“Wallace.” Damian acknowledged, just managing to keep his voice steady. “You’re up late.”

Wallace shrugged a little, and Damian couldn’t help but watch the way his shoulders moved, covered only by a thin cotton shirt. “So are you.”

They lapsed into a thick silence – the only sound Damian could hear was the pounding of his own heart. He briefly entertained a fantasy of dropping a smoke pellet and fleeing, but that would no doubt cause tension later.

Also, Damian had yet to devise a pair of underwear that could effectively hold his arsenal.

Before Damian could come up with a plausible reason to excuse himself, Wallace suddenly spoke up. “Damian, I just wanted to say… thank you.”

Damian fought to keep his face neutral – while he felt that Red Arrow exaggerated when she called Kid Flash an egomaniac, it _was_ rare to see him admit humility. “Oh?”

Wallace sighed a little, leaning back on the counter. “Yeah. For that whole… dance lesson thing. I guess I really needed that. I’m not surprised you figured it out, but… I was surprised you cared. Maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

Ah. Wallace must’ve finally pieced together the connection between his capoeira lessons and the non-incident incident in his room. Damian nodded, allowing a smug smile to tug at his lips. “It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret, Wallace. Your ‘dancing’ truly was atrocious.”

Wallace frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Your… dancing. In your room? When I walked in on you?” As Damian spoke, he watched the confusion grow on Wallace’s face, and panic began to settle in his chest. Had he misunderstood? “I could see that you desperately needed to improve your coordination and sense of rhythm, so I… began capoeira lessons with you.”

For a terrible moment, Damian though that Wallace was going to run off, or yell at him, or strike out – instead, he just threw back his head and laughed.

“Oh man, _that’s_ what this was all about? You thought I was bad at dancing?”

“Well, you clearly were!” Damian crossed his arms petulantly. “I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous!”

Wallace shook his head, still chuckling a little. “Dude, that wasn’t me dancing… well, okay, it kind of was, but that isn’t how I _actually_ dance. I was just goofing around, ‘cause I was… I was really happy.”

Damian tilted his head curiously. “Why?”

“A girl from my old school asked me to prom.”

Oh.

An ugly wave of jealousy washed through Damian, and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth the onslaught of emotions. This kind of thing was exactly what he had been worried about. Wallace was incredibly attractive, and funny, and “cool” – girls probably threw himself at his feet all the time. Damian wasn’t surprised. But it still hurt anyway.

“Congratulations.” Damian managed, though even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained.

Wallace didn’t smile like Damian had expected him to, didn’t gush about the attractiveness of his new partner or brag about his plans for prom night. He just stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and shrugged. “Thanks, I guess, but… I didn’t go.”

Oh!

Damian felt dizzy from emotional whiplash. It was honestly a little alarming the degree to which such mundane affairs affected him – high school proms should not be among his concerns.

Damian struggled for a moment to temper his reaction. “But if you were so happy to be asked, why did you change your mind?”

Wallace grimaced at the floor. “Honestly, man, I didn’t. Some guy asked out my date in this crazy way that involved filling an entire hallway with balloons or something? I saw it all over her Insta story. She thought it was super sweet and couldn’t help but accept, I guess.”

Damian scoffed indignantly. “A harlot who can be swayed by cheap plastic balloons is clearly not worth your time.”

There was a moment of bewildered silence before Wallace burst into laughter. _“Harlot?_ Man, I knew you talked kinda weird, but now you just sound like a bad guy from, like… _Pride and Prejudice.”_

“Wallace, based on that comment alone, I sincerely doubt you’ve actually read any Jane Austen.” Damian sniffed. “Besides, I’m only being honest – it’s clear this girl is a balloon harlot, and you deserve better.”

At that, Wallace actually doubled over in laughter, which made Damian’s heart flutter pleasantly. _He_ had done that.

“ _Balloon harlot?_ Holy shit, hold on, I need to change her contact name right now.”

True to his word, Wallace whipped his phone out of his pocket, his fingers a blur on the screen. Not even a full second later, Wallace had tucked his phone back in his pants – his expression was once again serious. _Speedsters._

“Anyway, I was really down about getting blown off. Kept moping around, taking it out on people… on you. Storming off in the middle of training, getting all pissy and shit. So when you suddenly changed up training, made it fun… I dunno. I guess I just assumed you had figured out why I had been so down by hacking my phone or something. That you were trying to cheer me up… in a weird, creepy way.”

“Well, I clearly did not look at your ‘Insta’,” Damian said. He probably didn’t need to bring up the fact that he _had_ looked into the music Wallace had on his phone in order to select songs for their fight. “But… I am glad that I helped your emotional well-being, even if I wasn’t aware of the entire situation.”

Wallace smiled. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.” He paused, biting his lip thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’m not even sure why I cared so much – it wasn’t like she was my girlfriend or anything. I guess… I just kind of missed it, you know? Feeling like a normal kid. Don’t get me wrong – being a hero is badass, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. But it was nice to go back to that life, just for a moment. And you’re right – that balloon thing was pretty fucking stupid. But… it also kinda reminded me that I can’t do that. I can’t be stupid with other kids, not anymore.”

“I’ve always wondered what that’s like.” Damian blurted out before his brain could catch up to his mouth. Wallace gave him a surprised look – he was clearly as shocked about Damian opening up as Damian was. “I… I mean, what it’s like to be a normal kid. I know I’m destined for greatness – I have to be. I’ve been training for my future my whole life. But… sometimes I just…” Damian trailed off, ducking his head in shame. What on earth had possessed him to share that?

There was shuffling noise, and Damian realized that Wallace was walking towards him. Damian didn’t dare look up – his body felt like it was on fire with embarrassment, and his face was no doubt beet red.

Two hands suddenly grasped his shoulders, and Damian had to suppress the urge to yelp – or, indeed, to break the hold and slam Wallace into the ground. Wallace’s skin was incredibly warm. Richard had not been exaggerating – Damian could practically feel the undercurrent of electric power.

Damian finally glanced up, meeting Wallace’s gaze. His expression was soft, dark gray eyes half-lidded.

“Damian,” he murmured, his voice warm and low in a way that sent shivers down Damian’s spine. “Will you dance with me?”

Damian gaped at him, face immediately turning bright red. _“What?”_

“I can’t give you all the stuff you missed out on,” Wallace explained slowly. “I can’t make shit better. But we can pretend for one night, can’t we?”

Damian hesitated. Nothing had changed, really. Wallace was no doubt offering due to some misguided attempt at becoming closer friends, blissfully – heterosexually – unaware of Damian’s feelings for him. More importantly, indulging in those feelings, even briefly, was foolish. And yet…

“Just for one night.” Damian said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wallace’s face split into a wide grin, and he actually did a little fist-pump. Damian rolled his eyes, but his blush didn’t recede.

“Now I can prove to you I’m not an awful dancer,” Wallace said, taking a step back and beginning to scroll through music on his phone.

“If your dancing is anything like your fighting, that remains to be seen.”

Wallace scoffed. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you weren’t impressed. I might’ve lost, but I saw your face! You totally thought I looked badass.”

Badass was maybe not the word Damian would’ve used. “No wonder you lost the fight – clearly, you were too busy staring at me.”

To Damian’s surprise, Wallace didn’t snark back. Instead, he looked up from his phone, giving Damian a slow once-over. Damian froze – his whole body felt like it burned under Wallace’s gaze.

Oh.

When Wallace’s eyes reached Damian’s face, he smirked. “Guess that remains to be seen.” He finally replied, and pressed play.

The music was a lot quieter coming from Wallace’s phone speaker, but Damian could still hear it well enough. It was hip-hop – unsurprisingly, since that was mainly what Wallace listened to. Unlike the music Damian had used for capoeira, however, it had a much slower beat, and no heavy percussion to speak of. It was… smooth. Sensual, even.

Damian, still reeling from his revelation, didn’t notice Wallace approaching until he was directly in front of him. Wallace was… swaying wasn’t quite the right word. He was moving his shoulders minutely to the beat, clearly getting a feeling for the rhythm. Damian watched with interest – he honestly wasn’t sure what kind of dancing actually occurred at high school functions. He would need to observe before attempting anything.

Apparently some part of Damian’s thought process was evident on his face, because after a few moments of remaining still, Wallace rolled his eyes.

“You are _way_ overthinking this,” Wallace sighed, once again placing his hands on Damian’s shoulders. The same shiver ran up Damian’s spine – it was no less electrifying the second time. “This isn’t about technique, man. Just… do what _feels_ right.”

“All forms of dance involve technique,” Damian argued, but allowed himself to be moved anyway. Soon the two were swaying in sync – Damian exhaled slowly, letting the music to wash over him. He could… kind of see where Wallace was coming from. There was something mesmerizing about feeling in-tune with someone else, regardless of skill level or complexity.

Wallace dropped his hands, much to Damian’s disappointment, but he realized why almost immediately; the chorus of the song had started, and apparently Wallace had decided to start dancing in earnest.

Using the motion of his sway, Wallace crossed his arms in front of him, forming a position that was shockingly similar to cadeira. Balling his hands into fists, he bopped them forward on-beat. At the same time, he backed up, giving himself room to start really moving.

Damian rolled his eyes. Not about technique his ass.

Mirroring Wallace’s form, Damian relaxed his knees and hips, watching how Wallace shifted from position to position, often sticking with a particular movement for a few seconds before spontaneously changing directions.

The two began to circle each other, each movement perfectly in sync. He had to admit – Wallace _was_ good. Certainly much better than he had initially thought. He was fast and experienced, flowing between sharp, precise motions and fluid ones as effortlessly as breathing.

There was an overenthusiasm there, a tendency to hit positions much harder than he needed to. But honestly? It just made his dancing more charming. He wasn’t doing this to win a competition, or even to look good – he was doing this to have fun.

Damian, on the other hand, may have been naïve in dance, but he was plenty acrobatic – more importantly, he was quick to learn.

They flowed with each other. Sometimes they would gravitate together – Wallace would lean in close, face a hair’s breadth away from Damian’s. It was exhilarating to know that if one of them leaned just the slightest bit forward, then… But they always would suddenly break, compelled by the music to move apart and dance on their own.

Even when they were apart, however, Damian could still feel the heat of their connection. Wallace’s gaze was unwavering, watching every sway of his hips, every roll of his body. Damian was no stranger to having an audience – most of his fights were scrutinized, recorded for later judgement. But there was no judgement in Wallace’s eyes. Just a desire that was getting harder and harder to deny.

Damian had no idea how long they danced. The songs began to flow together, themselves unimportant, only acting as the medium for their movement. Eventually, however, the hints of exhaustion began to tug at Damian’s limbs – it became harder to match Wallace’s enthusiasm.

Damian still refused to admit weakness. Moreover… he still wasn’t ready for this night – their one night together – to be over.

The song faded out, Damian taking a moment’s pause to wait for the next one to start.

Wallace furrowed his brow at him, and Damian realized with a start that he had stopped moving entirely. He had lowered his arms and was no doubt showing every bit of tiredness that he felt. When had his guard dropped so completely?

Before he could remedy his position, Wallace approached him, stopping when he was only a few inches away.

“Wanna call it a night?” he asked, voice soft. Damian bristled – he would _not_ be condescended to.

“I am more than capable of continuing.”

Wallace sighed. “Yeah, man, I’m sure you are. I’m asking what you _want…_ ” Wallace suddenly trailed off, head cocked. Damian realized that he was listening to the music – this song was much slower than what they had been dancing to before. Softer.

“You know,” Wallace said contemplatively, “I never did show you slow dancing.” 

“Hm. And I suppose you’ll tell me that the basis of slow dancing isn’t technique, but rather doing what ‘feels right’?”

Wallace chuckled. “This time, I swear it’s actually true.”

He held out his hand, offer clear. Damian hesitated for a moment, but eventually placed his hand in Wallace’s, who grinned at him.

To Damian’s surprise, Wallace took his other hand as well, then placed them both on Wallace’s shoulders. Damian flushed a little – his thin cotton shirt wasn’t much of a barrier, and Damian could clearly feel his lean, corded muscles.

Wallace then placed his hands on Damian’s waist, and Damian couldn’t help the little _“Oh”_ that escaped his lips. Wallace’s grip was firm, almost possessive – his hands _so_ warm. All Damian could think about was how little fabric there was separating them.

Wallace squeezed a little, and Damian realized that his hands almost encompassed the entirety of his waist. This was nearly enough to elicit another embarrassing noise from Damian, but he bit his lip furiously – he had already made a fool of himself, and there was no need to make it worse.

Wallace began to move, swaying the two of them much in the same way he had done at the beginning of their dance. Damian exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the movement, on the song, on anything other than Wallace’s intoxicatingly warm hands on his waist. It was fruitless – without the rigors of their earlier dancing, it was increasingly difficult to distract himself from the tension that had been building all night. Fantasies came to Damian, unbidden: Wallace holding him even tighter, spinning him like father spun women at galas, dipping him low, kissing him –

– Kissing him _hard_ , pushing his tongue into Damian’s mouth – Damian had never been kissed at all, but he had thought about it, had dreamt about it, pushed fingers into his mouth and stroked his tongue just to see if it felt as good it looked. Wallace kissing his neck, sucking on his neck, leaving dark bruises that not even the Robin collar could hide.

To Damian’s immense horror, he could feel the beginnings of arousal curl hot in his gut. Was he seriously so deprived that _slow dancing_ and a little fantasy got him halfway there? Damian was not so blind as to still think that Wallace’s intentions for tonight were strictly platonic, but there had certainly been nothing overtly sexual. Damian was twisting something innocent into perversity.

Desperate for a distraction, Damian glanced up at Wallace, who was still watching him with those half-lidded gray eyes. “Is this all there is?” Damian snapped, or at least tried to – his voice was decidedly thinner than he would have liked. “This hardly qualifies as a dance.”

Wallace chuckled. “I mean, yeah. It’s not really supposed to be a dance.” He suddenly moved his hands down to Damian’s hips, tugging them until Damian stumbled forward, nearly causing him to slam his face into Wallace’s chest. “It’s mostly just an excuse to touch.”

Whatever objections to being manhandled that Damian might’ve usually had died on his tongue. If he had felt overwhelmed just by Wallace touching his waist, this was a whole other level – the rest of his body was just as warm as his hands, and Damian felt almost dizzy from all the contact.

After a moment, Damian dared to lean forward a little, resting his forehead against Wallace’s chest. His eyes fluttered shut. There were so few people he felt he could let his guard down with – it was a great weight off his chest to be able to be so vulnerable.

Wallace took a hand off of Damian’s hips, cupping the back of his neck and squeezing gently. Damian whimpered at the feeling, suddenly grateful that he had pressed his face into Wallace’s chest – at least the noise was partially muffled.

Having pressure right where he had been thinking about Wallace kissing was not helping Damian keep a clear head, especially when Wallace began to slowly massage his neck. It was by no means a deft touch, but Damian felt the tension bleed out of his muscles anyway. He allowed his hands to trail down Wallace’s chest, and when he showed no signs of protest, he slowly wrapped his arms around him in a loose hug.

After a pause, Wallace moved his free hand away from Damian’s hip, returning the hug with a tight squeeze. Damian felt a pressure on top of his head, and with a jolt, he realized that Wallace must be resting his chin on top of Damian. It struck Damian how much bigger Wallace was – he was boxed in at all sides. But rather than feeling trapped, he almost felt… protected.

Something brushed against Damian’s calves, and he nearly jumped at the surprise contact. It took him a moment to realize what it was – Wallace had danced them across the living room, and they were running into the couch. Damian was about to pull away and inform Wallace of his error, when he felt Wallace start to lean over. He was… depositing Damian on the couch.

Despite his confusion, Damian allowed himself to be moved, lowering gently into the plush seat. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at Wallace.

To his surprise, he wasn’t moving to sit next to Damian. He just… hovered. Leaning over Damian. One hand on the headrest behind him. The other…

The other reached up to cradle his face. His thumb ran along his jawline, his cheekbone, the edge of his mask. The touch was so light that Damian could barely feel it.

“Damian.” Wallace’s voice was rough, as if he had been using it for hours. “Please. Let me see you.”

It took Damian a moment to realize what Wallace meant, but as soon as he did, he swallowed thickly. Nodded.

He reached up, barely managing to contain the tremble of his fingers as he slowly pulled the mask from his face.

He blinked a few times – without the lenses’ light correcting tech, the room was much darker. Even still, he could see the slow smile playing on Wallace’s lips.

“You have such gorgeous eyes,” Wallace murmured. “The prettiest jade green. Such thick lashes, too… the first time I saw you without your mask, I thought you had makeup on.”

Damian honestly had no idea how to respond – no one had ever complimented his appearance in such a manner. He just nodded dumbly.

“Damian… can I ask you something? When we’re alone… just the two of us. Will you take off your mask for me?”

“Yes.” Damian breathed, not even stopping to think.

Wallace didn’t answer him – he just smiled wider, and leaned in.

Wallace’s lips were dizzyingly hot where they brushed against Damian’s – the touch was incredibly gentle, but Damian still felt a shock run through him, an intense tingle of electrifying sensation. Even this, the barest of kisses, was nearly overwhelming. And yet, when Wallace started to pull away, no doubt to ask some inane question, Damian was compelled to chase him. He pressed his lips clumsily against Wallace’s, this time actually shivering at the jolt that ran through him.

Richard had warned him that first kisses rarely lived up to expectations, but Damian had no such problem – the actual thing far outranked any tomfoolery he had gotten up to with his hand. Damian exhaled softly though his nose as Wallace began to move his lips, the gentle presses sending thrills down Damian’s spine. After a moment, Damian began to reciprocate, actually groaning when Wallace tilted his head, the new angle somehow feeling more intense. The drag of their lips was incredible – even the moments where their skin seemed to catch just made it that much more exciting.

There was a shuffling noise, and Damian felt the couch dip as Wallace climbed on. He could feel the proximity of Wallace’s body heat, and he had to bite back a whimper when he felt Wallace’s knee gently nudging his legs apart. He tried to reprimand himself that Wallace was likely just trying to get comfortable, so he shouldn’t get overly… excited. That train of thought, however, was thoroughly derailed when he felt Wallace’s tongue swipe at his bottom lip.

If Wallace’s skin was warm, then his tongue felt like a hot iron. Damian groaned as Wallace licked more insistently at the seam of his lips – it was pushy in a way that made the stubborn side of him want to purse his lips tighter. But most of him just wanted it, wanted this.

He parted his lips slightly, actually whimpering as Wallace’s tongue pushed inside. To his relief, Wallace groaned as well, suddenly reaching around to once again grip the back of Damian’s neck. Damian almost unconsciously relaxed at the feeling, parting his lips further and allowing Wallace deeper inside.

Damian had to tamp down the incredible urge to squirm as Wallace played with him, clearly an experienced enough kisser to drive Damian wild. He would graze his teeth across Damian’s lips, or suck hard on his tongue for a few seconds – infuriating teases that were never quite enough.

Damian eventually turned his head away, breaking the kiss to snarl at Wallace, but he never got further than opening his mouth; Wallace nipped at his jaw, causing a truly humiliating squeak to come out of Damian. That squeak turned into a prolonged moan as Wallace almost apologetically kissed where he had bitten, then laved his tongue over the column of Damian’s throat.

Damian wrapped his arms around Wallace, fingers digging into his back in what was probably a painfully tight grip. Wallace didn’t protest – in fact, it seemed to spur him on, and he bit _hard_ at Damian’s neck, hard enough to wrench a gasp from Damian. _Ya Allah,_ that would probably leave a bruise.

Wallace crowded closer to Damian, putting enough of his weight on him that Damian was pinned against the couch. Damian panted – he wanted Wallace properly on top of him, pinning him to a bed, insistently pushing _inside–_

Damian was suddenly struck by the knowledge of how _wet_ he was. He could feel the slickness leaking out of him, making the inside of his boxer briefs tacky. He might even be dripping on the couch. A sudden flash of embarrassment compelled him to foolishly try and slam his legs shut, but he only managed to clench them around Wallace’s knee.

His skin pricked at the contact, and he whimpered – his hips twitched involuntarily as he imagined grinding down on Wallace’s knee, being brought to completion just like that, not even bothering to take his underwear off.

Wallace must’ve noticed _something,_ because he suddenly withdrew from where he had been sucking a dark bruise onto Damian’s collarbone. Damian whined at the loss of sensation, apparently determined to lose all dignity.

Wallace sat back on his knees – his brow was furrowed with concern, but the seriousness of his look was somewhat offset by how kiss-bruised his lips were. “Hey, are you–”

He suddenly cut himself off, his eyes flitting down Damian’s body. Slightly alarmed, Damian followed Wallace’s gaze.

To his horror, he realized how obviously turned on he was. His nipples were clearly hard, peaking through the thin material of his white tank top. Far worse, however, were his boxers – the light gray fabric was completely soaked through, and slickness had even started gathering on the bare skin of Damian’s inner thighs.

Damian immediately yanked his hands from where they had been resting on Wallace’s shoulders, hurriedly covering himself. To be this riled up from a little _necking_ was absolutely humiliating.

“Don’t,” he snapped, though it lacked bite – apparently, his higher functions had been completely shorted out, and he had been reduced to single-word sentences.

“Damian…” Wallace murmured, sounding a little breathless. It was then that Damian realized that Wallace didn’t look amused, or disgusted – he was staring at Damian’s body with half-lidded eyes, pupils blown with desire. He ran a hand through his hair, laughing almost disbelievingly. “God… that’s so fucking hot.”

Damian hunched over shyly. Wallace suddenly leaned back over, brushing his lips on the shell of Damian’s ear. “What do you say, baby?” Wallace whispered, breath hot on Damian’s skin. “Want me to take you back to my room?”

As he spoke, Wallace placed a hand on Damian’s chest, beginning to gently toy with Damian’s nipple. Damian moaned at the sensation, and embarrassingly enough, he could actually _feel_ himself getting wetter through his underwear.

Struggling to regain any sense of clarity, Damian gritted his teeth against the relentless onslaught of pleasure. “If you are trying to seduce me, I suggest you attempt some place not covered in your dirty socks.”

Wallace chuckled, and Damian was suddenly swept up in a nauseating vortex of movement and electricity – he blinked, attempting to reorient himself. He was… lying on his back. On a bed. Glancing around, he recognized this to be _his_ room. _Speedsters._

Wallace was kneeling at the edge of the bed, though annoyingly enough, he was looking at his phone _._ Damian scowled, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Telling your friends about your latest conquest?” He snapped icily.

Wallace glanced up, expression genuinely hurt. “What? No, of course not. I’m just looking for my sex playlist.”

_That_ made Damian roll his eyes. He sat up fully, snatching the phone out of Wallace’s hands.

“I think I can live without it.” He snarked, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. “This is not a cheesy porno, Wallace.”

Wallace just grinned at him, whipping off his shirt slightly faster than humanly possible. Damian suppressed another eyeroll – if Wallace wanted to impress him, he would have to try a little harder. Damian couldn’t deny the view, however – Wallace was far from the most “ripped” person he had ever seen, but there was something incredibly appealing about the contours of his body, the leanness of his muscle.

When Damian looked back to Wallace’s face, he expected to see a smug grin at being so obviously admired; instead, Wallace looked contemplative.

“Damian, uh, you… do want to do this, right?” Wallace asked, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian cocked his head. “I’m glad to see you applying your high school sex-ed lessons on consent, Wallace, but believe me – if you had done anything I did not want, you would have far fewer working fingers.”

Wallace stopped scratching. “Uh… good to know, I guess.”

He started to scoot forward, and Damian watched him, concentrating on taking deep breaths. He was still incredibly turned on – seeing Wallace take off his shirt certainly hadn’t calmed him down – but he was glad to have regained a little control over himself.

When Wallace was right in front of him, Damian leaned in for a kiss, which Wallace gladly reciprocated. It was slower than their earlier one, but just as hot – Wallace had apparently overcome any inhibitions about roughness, and gladly nipped and sucked at Damian’s lips hard enough that it drew out soft gasps.

Damian slowly lay back down, Wallace following him, lips remaining locked. As soon as Damian’s head hit the mattress, Wallace backed off a little, though he was still close enough that his breath was warm on Damian’s lips as he spoke.

“But seriously… we can take it slow.” He pressed a small kiss to the corner of Damian’s lips. “Do whatever you’re comfortable with… whatever you want.”

Damian was quiet for a moment. Wallace was looking at him with such an earnest face; it was honestly really… cute.

Damian arched his back, rucking up his tank top until his chest showed. Wallace visibly swallowed, and Damian smirked.

“You may start here.” He said, resting his hands besides his head.

Wallace pressed another quick kiss to Damian’s lips before moving down his body, pausing to nip at Damian’s neck and shoulders. Damian huffed impatiently – he had never paid much attention to his chest before, but Wallace’s earlier ministrations had left him… curious.

Damian gasped when he felt Wallace’s tongue lave over his right nipple. It was so much more intense than some over-the-clothes teasing. Wallace began to softly suck him, moving his other hand to simultaneously play with the other nipple.

Damian squirmed, letting out little “ _ah”_ s as Wallace grew more bold – he bobbed his head with the motion of his sucking, occasionally scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh and making Damian whimper. His hand stayed busy as well, pinching and pulling mercilessly, even digging in a fingernail for brief moments. Propping his head up, Damian could see his brown nipples had grown flushed and swollen with the abuse, the sight of which made him whine.

Wallace shifted, finally laying his full weight on top of Damian, who couldn’t help but gasp as something warm and heavy pressed against his thigh. His head thumped back onto the mattress, eyes closing as he was suddenly overcome with a heady wave of arousal. Knowing that Wallace was just as affected…

Damian bit his lip, nudging his thigh against Wallace’s cock. Wallace gave an appreciative groan, taking that as an invitation to properly grind against Damian. The fabric was thin enough Damian could actually feel a damp spot at the tip being dragged across his thigh, making his skin prickle with arousal.

Damian flexed his thighs, parting his legs wider in a silent plea. His soaked underwear had honestly begun to feel uncomfortable, the fabric clinging to his lips in a way that was more irritating than pleasurable.

After a moment, it became clear that Wallace was too busy humping his thigh to notice, so Damian cleared his throat loudly. Wallace stopped immediately, looking up from where he had been biting a ring of bruises around Damian’s nipple.

“If you would be so kind as to return the favor,” Damian croaked, his voice oddly ragged.

It took Wallace a moment to understand, but Damian could tell instantly when he did – his eyes widened, and he nodded almost a little too enthusiastically.

Wallace scooted back, gaze falling down to Damian’s underwear. He raised his hips to facilitate Wallace removing them, but to his surprise, Wallace simply pushed them back down.

“You said to return the favor,” Wallace teased, “I don’t remember ever taking my pants off.”

Before Damian could protest, Wallace cupped a hand over Damian’s folds, barely applying any pressure. Damian growled at the tease – he had been riled up for the better part of the night, and was not in the mood to wait.

Wallace just grinned wider, beginning to slowly rub his fingers through Damian’s lips. The fabric that had been such an irritant became an agonizingly pleasurable source of friction, dragging through his slick folds, just rough enough to occasionally catch and give Damian a little jolt. He groaned, making a mental note to buy better underwear in the future.

He tried to move his hips, get some friction on his desperately aching clit, but Wallace brought his free hand down, pinning Damian to the bed. Damian fisted the sheets in frustration – it was so good, but it wasn’t _enough._

“Wallace!” He snapped, shivering under the onslaught of sensation.

“Mm?” Wallace replied, having _entirely_ too much fun.

“Touch me properly.” Damian demanded.

“Aw, is that any way to ask for something you want?”

Damian gritted his teeth. “Touch me properly or I will put you on bathroom cleaning duty for a month.”

Wallace grinned cheekily. “Hm… that didn’t sound like the magic word to me.”

“Wallace… please.” He let his head fall back onto the bed, voice going soft. “Please… I need you inside of me.”

Wallace’s expression of dumbfounded amazement was almost more satisfying than the way he practically ripped Damian’s underwear off – almost.

Wallace reached out, slowly running his finger down Damian’s lips – he was so wet that the slide was easy, and when he brushed his fingers over Damian’s entrance, they nearly slipped right in.

Damian gasped, his entrance fluttering at the tease of finally having something inside of him. He spread his legs wider, whining out another _“Please.”_

This time, Wallace barely seemed to notice him, too entranced by what he was doing – biting his lip, Damian saw Wallace withdraw his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and tasting the slick gathered there. With his other hand, he began to massage the comically obvious tent in his pants. Damian’s focus zeroed in on the sight – yes, yes, _yes._

“Wallace.” He tried again, this time managing to catch Wallace’s attention. He brought his hand down, parting his labia with his fingers in what was no doubt an incredibly lewd display. “No more teasing. I want you to… I want you to fuck me.”

Wallace blanched a little. “Damian… are you sure? I could spend some time getting you ready first.”

“I am not a porcelain doll, and I am fully aware of my own limits.” That was not… strictly true. Damian had dabbled in penetration in the past, but often found his hairbrush handles and other assorted objects to be too… stiff. He assumed that the natural flexibility of the penis would not pose the same problem.

Wallace bit his lip. “Okay, but… I don’t have condoms.”

“I am… protected.”

Wallace raised his eyebrows. “You’re kind of young to get an implant.”

Damian flushed in embarrassment. “Clearly not, since my apparent youth hasn’t been a deterrent for you.”

“Fair enough,” Wallace said, slowly tugging at the hem of his sweatpants. Damian watched with great interest. “But if it hurts, we’re stopping.”

Damian didn’t bother to respond, far too invested in Wallace finally pulling off his sweatpants. Damian wasn’t surprised at all to see that he wasn’t wearing underwear, so as soon as Wallace pulled his hem down far enough, his cock sprung free, bobbing almost comically with the momentum.

It was difficult to see well in the dim light, but Damian could still tell that Wallace was large, though not disproportionately so. His cock was slender and circumcised – his naval and testicles were covered in a fine layer of dark black hair, a little on the unruly side.

Most appealing, however, was the bead of precome that glistened on the head his cock.

Wallace shuffled forward, once more leaning over Damian’s form. After a moment, Damian felt the press of Wallace’s cockhead against his entrance, and he whined, opening his legs further, but Wallace pulled back slightly. Gripping the base of it, he began to drag his cock in between Damian’s lips, who whimpered every time the head teased against his entrance or his clit.

He was coating himself in slick, Damian realized with a moan. It was _obscene –_ and yet, strangely conscientious. Even with Damian’s insistence, Wallace was still trying to be gentle.

“You ready?” Wallace breathed, and Damian nodded. Moving his free hand up, Wallace intertwined his fingers with Damian’s, slowly beginning the push against Damian’s entrance.

Damian clutched his fingers, grounding himself as he started to feel his entrance struggle to accommodate Wallace’s length. He wasn’t a fool – he had known that this would ache, hurt even. But… there was an appeal to that, too. As Damian was forced open, muscles fluttering helplessly around the intrusion, he couldn’t deny the sparks of pained pleasure that shot through his hips and spine.

The head suddenly popped in, Wallace unintentionally thrusting halfway forward with the momentum. Damian gasped loudly, throwing his head back as his insides throbbed. Wallace was… so much bigger than his hairbrush. But it felt so _good_ – his cock was achingly hot, making Damian feel like he was burning from the inside-out.

“Please,” Damian begged, his previous game becoming painfully sincere. “Fuck me, _fuck me.”_

Wallace groaned, pushing forward _hard_. He buried himself all the way inside Damian with a single, prolonged thrust.

Damian groaned at the sensation. It felt so deep that he could almost feel it in his _throat,_ aching in a way that bordered the line between pain and pleasure.

With a sudden rush, he realized that Wallace must be pressed up against his _cervix._ Damian hadn’t been lying when he had assured that he was protected – bat-paranoia had ensured that – but there was something so… primally intoxicating about the idea that Wallace was pushed right against his womb.

Damian squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of fantasy. Wallace, pinning him down and fucking him hard enough that he forgot his name, coming inside of him, coming inside of his womb, fucking him full of his babies…

Damian cried out helplessly, insides clenching almost painfully around the cock inside of him. It wasn’t quite his orgasm, but it was close.

“Fuck, Damian!” Wallace yelled, dropping his head and panting with deep, ragged breaths. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

Damian just whimpered, nearly oversensitive with pleasure. “Wallace…”

Hearing the pleading in Damian’s voice, Wallace began to pull out, agonizingly slow – it must be _torture_ for him, but Damian couldn’t get himself to relax his muscles.

Wallace started rocking into him, managing to set an even pace, but it was still so _slow._ Damian groaned, meeting Wallace’s steady thrusts with rolls of his hips.

“I need it,” he hissed, “Faster, more, please.”

“Damian,” Wallace grunted, “I _can’t…_ I don’t want to…”

Damian lifted his legs, wrapping them around Wallace’s hips and pulling him flush with his pelvis. Wallace glanced up, their eyes locking.

“ _Make_ me take it.”

Wallace gritted his teeth. “Shit. _Shit.”_

He suddenly grabbed Damian’s hip with his free hand, the other one simply tightening his grip to an almost painful degree. Damian practically _screamed_ as Wallace suddenly pulled back, only to slam back in at full strength.

Wallace set a punishing pace – the sounds of their movements suddenly filled the room, absolutely obscene. Damian could hear Wallace’s balls smacking against his ass, the way his entrance squelched as it was fucked, as it was _used._ Above all that, though, Damian let out a series of humiliating cries, gasping every time Wallace’s cock slammed into his cervix.

Wallace leaned over, pressing a series of quick kisses to Damian’s jaw before moving next to his ear. “You like that, baby?” He whispered, barely audible over the sounds of their fucking. “You like it when I fuck you good?”

“Yes, yes,” Damian managed to gasp.

“Like it when I fuck your pussy open?”

Damian whined at the embarrassing words, but could still feel himself get traitorously wet. “Yes!”

Wallace scraped his teeth over the shell of Damian’s ear. “Want me to come in you, baby?”

Damian let out a sob at that, finally reaching down between his legs to rub furiously at his clit. “Need it, need your cum inside of me.”

Wallace propped himself up on an elbow, leaning down to give Damian a searing kiss, fucking his tongue into Damian’s mouth at the same brutal pace that he fucked his pussy. Seconds later, Wallace groaned loudly against his lips, and Damian felt a cramping fullness that he realized was Wallace coming inside of him.

Damian’s eyes rolled back at the sensation – Wallace’s cum was in him, in his womb, _fuck!_

His orgasm slammed into him, his whole body shaking as he clenched helplessly around the cock in him. He rubbed himself through the aftershocks, struggling to keep his hips in place so that he didn’t let any of the cum spill out of him.

The two lay there for a minute, panting as they came down from their highs. Damian was struck with an overwhelming wave of tiredness – apparently, all of today’s strenuous activities had finally caught up to him, and he couldn’t help the prolonged yawn that escaped his lips.

Wallace pried himself off, their skin sticking together briefly before separating. For a terrible moment, Damian thought that Wallace was going to run out and never speak to him again, but he just pulled out with an awkward grunt and gave Damian a lopsided smile.

“Lemme, uh, get some washcloths,” he said, and before Damian could say anything about running naked through Mercy Hall, he was gone. Damian sighed, leaning his head back on the bed.

Well. That had been… a lot. In the best ways, Damian thought, though he wasn’t sure how to feel about his newfound proclivities for… breeding. He supposed it wasn’t really the strangest thing about himself, and as long as it didn’t do anything actively foolish because of it, it hardly counted as a crisis.

Wallace returned, wet washcloths in hand. Damian noticed with some annoyance that he had clearly taken a shower at super-speed and changed into a set of clothes. He was about to ask Wallace to hand over the washcloths when he took a seat next to him on the bed. Ah.

Damian sighed, but otherwise made no protest as Wallace began to wipe down his neck and chest. He even closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of the warm washcloth on his skin.

It was… nice to have someone look after him.

Damian’s chest ached – it felt like it had been a long time since anyone had done that. Since he had… let anyone do that.

“Wallace?” he murmured.

“Damian?”

Damian exhaled slowly through his nose. This – all of this – was foolish. Damian never should have indulged in his feelings, and he certainly shouldn’t do what he was about to. But in this moment, Damian just… couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I am… fond of you.”

Wallace… didn’t respond. Just silently continued wiping down Damian’s stomach.

Damian winced. He wasn’t used to miscalculating – the fondness that Wallace had showed him tonight, the care… he had thought… but he was clearly wrong.

And then Wallace’s lips brushed against his in a gentle kiss.

Damian’s eyes fluttered open, and he saw that Wallace was hovering over him, a huge smile on his face – the same huge smile that had started this whole ridiculous affair.

Damian’s heart soared, and he realized that he was smiling too.

“I’m fond of you too, you gigantic fucking dork.”

**Author's Note:**

> I tend not to include song titles in fics, since it doesn't really add anything unless you're already familiar, but if you're curious, here's what I had in mind while writing!  
> Wallace's room: Stunnin' by Curtis Walters & Harm Franklin (suits him very well imo)  
> Fight song: Start a Riot by Duckwrth & Shaboozey  
> First dance: Distraction by Kehlani  
> Slow dance: Don't Judge Me by Janelle Monáe (kind of the theme song of this fic, it was almost the title)
> 
> What was on Wallace's sex playlist? That, dear reader, I will leave for you to decide ;)


End file.
